by Joy Nash
This group consisted of a dozen teens and two adult chaperones: a young rabbi and his wife. Fourteen helpers-to-be divided among Maddie and the three grad students. Dr. Ben-Meir himself never claimed a volunteer group. He preferred to visit each team briefly, schmoozing the adults while laying the groundwork for future contributions of time and money.
Introductions were made. The morning was given over to basic instruction on archeological methods and a lecture on the history of the Negev.
After lunch, Maddie led her group of three teenagers to their assigned area. As luck would have it, the section was on the eastern edge of the site, very close to where Cade was clearing the new quadrant. As she descended the ladder into the shoulder-deep pit, she caught a glimpse of the brawny Welshman in the act of vanquishing yet another boulder.
The rock didn’t stand a chance. Maddie was very much afraid she didn’t, either.
Another headache.
A throb sprang up behind Maddie’s right eye, a small pain, one she wouldn’t have even noticed before her diagnosis, and she tried to blame it on the glare of the desert sun. The brilliant rays spilled past the edge of the shade canopy, striking her in the eye whenever she snuck a glance at Cade.
He must have cleared twice as many rocks as the two Israeli laborers working with him. His bare torso gleamed with sweat. His midnight-sexy voice whispered in her memory. She knew he’d seen her staring. Every time she accidently caught his eye and hastily looked away she could feel his amusement. Still, she couldn’t seem to stop her eyes from sliding back to him.
Didn’t the man care about sunburn? Skin cancer? No one went shirtless under the desert sun, especially not a fair-skinned Welshman. But the relentless rays didn’t seem to faze him. He worked steadily, hardly stopping for a breath or a drink.
The throbbing pressure in her temple increased. Her vision blurred. She took off her glasses, cleaned them on her shirt, and readjusted the sides.
With effort, she refocused her attention on her charges: three boys, ranging in age from thirteen to sixteen. Two of them—Josh and Jake—were brothers. Not twins, but alike enough to keep Maddie guessing. The third boy, Ben, was skinny and awkward.
Armed with trowels and stiff-bristled brushes, the three teens had spent the last few hours diligently scraping layers of dirt and gravel into shallow buckets. At regular intervals, they’d climbed out of the pit to sift the scrapings through a sieve. But Maddie could tell the drudge work was already getting old.
She sighed. It was only Day One. And they were lucky enough to be working in the pit that housed the dig’s most exciting find, the rock-lined foundation of an early Canaanite well. Other relics had been unearthed in the pit as well: pottery shards, a charcoal pit, a bronze taper with a chiseled end, a small cache of bronze blades. Nearby, they had discovered an oblong stone Simon was sure was a primitive anvil. Ben-Meir theorized an ancient forge had once been located near the well. He was eager to discover more, to find some proof that the settlement had belonged to the Watchers.
Maddie glanced again in Cade’s direction, then muttered a curse and looked away when she realized he and his loaded wheelbarrow were headed in her direction. The path to the rubble pile ran along the edge of Maddie’s pit.
She held her breath as he passed, his knees level with her eyes. The snake tattoo winding his left calf was so lifelike, it looked as if it might slide down his leg and slither away. The creature reminded her of the snake she’d shooed out of the hut the night before. She made a mental note to be sure that tonight the door remained firmly closed and latched.
Cade dumped the wheelbarrow’s contents. The axle creaked as he retraced his steps. His eyes caught hers as he passed. The subtle flare of his nostrils, and the challenging shift in his stance as he eyed her, caused Maddie’s stomach to flip. The reaction was part sexual awareness, part fear. It wasn’t a far reach at all to imagine Cade Leucetius as predator, herself as prey.
At the moment, however, Cade’s only attack was his slow, wicked grin. A direct hit. Raw desire stabbed downward from her breasts to her womb. Her thighs contracted. Her knees actually wobbled. He tossed her a smug look.
Blue, she realized. His eyes were blue. The most vibrant blue Maddie had ever seen. An absolutely piercing color. Those eyes held her completely captive for five erratic beats of her heart.
Finally, he was past. She jerked her head around, cheeks burning. How humiliating, to have no control over her body’s response to a man. How frightening. If she was ever alone with him again . . . Just the thought of it produced a confusing mixture of raw arousal and suffocating terror.
What, exactly, was she afraid of? She couldn’t put a finger on it. And she was afraid to examine the feeling too deeply. She just knew that Cade Leucetius disturbed her on some instinctive level. At the same time, she was attracted to him like crazy. Oh, why couldn’t the man just vanish?
He would, she reminded herself, in a few days. Or at most a week.
A lot could happen in a week.
The teens, plugged into their iPods, chattered loudly as they worked. Maddie bent her head and concentrated on scraping dirt into her bucket. It was nothing but dust and grit; the largest pebble was the size of a pea. She made a note in her field log and moved a few steps to the right, hoping for more fertile ground.
Her headache made it harder and harder to concentrate. The vise constricting her scalp tightened. The pain was impossible to ignore. She muttered a curse and tore off her glasses. Even before her diagnosis, they’d given her headaches.
Of course. That was the problem. Her glasses. Not the tumor. Please God, not the tumor.
She pressed her fingers to her temples. The throbbing eased. When she opened her eyes, she froze. The entire world had changed.
No. That wasn’t right. The world was the same. It was her view of it that had changed. Everything before her—from her hand two inches in front of her face, to the distant rise of the canyon wall—appeared in aggressive, almost unreal detail. As if the world was a 3-D movie playing on a digital high-def screen. It was as if her vision had improved.
Cautiously, she replaced her glasses on her nose. The pain flashed back, stabbing behind her eye. Grimacing, she tore off the eyewear and crammed it into her shirt pocket.
A corner of the pit started to glow. Soft red light spilled from the depths of the ancient well. Maddie glanced toward the three teens working in the opposite corner of the pit. One had started singing loudly off-key to whatever music he was plugged into. The others, groaning, shouted for him to shut up. Even though one of the boys was facing the well, he gave no sign of having seen anything odd.
Maddie inched closer to the well. The team had removed the misshapen boulder that had been lodged in the opening, probably during some ancient earthquake. The rock lay now to one side, revealing a circular hole faced with hand-tooled stone. The dry bottom lay some twelve feet below the level of the excavation pit.
Red light covered the bare, packed earth. The more Maddie stared, trying to puzzle out what it might be, the more light-headed she became. It was as if the hovering radiance had seeped into her eyes and was now trying to lift up the top of her skull. The world faded in and out. The earthen walls and wooden shoring of the excavation pit turned translucent. The banter of the teens became muffled. The black shade canopy over her head somehow took on the aspect of a green, leafy bough.
Her toes were even with the edge of the well now. She peered down into a glistening sheen of water. Water? In a dry well? Panic twisted her innards. She stumbled and grabbed for the shoring crossbeam. She missed. And then she was falling, falling . . .
She flung out her arms—
“Ms. Durant?” A hand grasped her elbow. “Is something wrong?”
She looked up, dazed, to find herself crouching on the ground. The older of the identical brothers—Josh?—was frowning down at her. The two other boys crowded behind, their young faces troubled. All three bore traces of white light about their heads and shoulders.
She blinked and rubbed her eyes.
“Are you okay, Ms. Durant?” Josh asked.
She drew a deep breath. Thankfully, this time the strange auras around the boys disappeared. The excavation pit was as it had been. For one disoriented moment, all she could think was how oddly normal everything looked. Flat. Two-dimensional. Heartbreakingly dismal.
The well was dark.
“Ms. Durant?”
She inhaled and pushed to her feet, cheeks flooding with heat. She was the adult here.
Breaking contact with Josh’s supporting hand, she forced a laugh and reached for her canteen. “Sorry. Got a little light headed all of a sudden. I haven’t been drinking enough water.” She lifted the canteen for emphasis. “Let that be a lesson to all of you. It’s very easy to get dehydrated here in the desert and not even realize it until you’re ready to fall over. You have to drink before you get thirsty. Everyone have their water bottles? Good. We’ll all take a drink and get back to work.”
The teenagers dutifully guzzled mouthfuls of water and returned to their scraping. Maddie gripped her own trowel and struggled to collect herself. Thankfully, the visual disturbances—the glowing and the weird 3-D movie effect—didn’t return.
Unless her suddenly 20-20 vision qualified as a visual disturbance. Though her glasses remained in her pocket, she could see better than she ever had. Weird. Really weird.
She tipped her head back. Her eyes collided with Cade Leucetius’s intense blue gaze. How long had he been standing there, not ten feet from the edge of the pit, looking down at her? Had he witnessed her dizzy spell? For some reason, the thought that he’d seen her so vulnerable scared her.
She frowned. Then, without waiting for his reaction, she turned her back. She assumed what she hoped was a casual demeanor and stepped over to supervise the teens.
“Find anything interesting?”
“Not a darn thing.” Jake sighed, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. “Just dirt and more dirt. You know, Ms. Durant, I thought archeology would be fun. But this is really kind of boring.”
“Kind of boring?” Ben groaned. “More like totally boring.”
“Yeah,” Josh said. “And just think, we’ve got two more weeks of this. I can’t wait to get to the pool.”
Maddie laughed. “You’ll have time to swim tonight. Just remember, though, you can swim at home. You can’t dig up five-thousand-year-old history in your backyard. This dig is something you’ll remember the rest of your life.”
Ben had the grace to look sheepish. “I guess it won’t be so bad if we find something.” The other boys muttered in agreement.
“Looks like you guys have about had it for your first day.” She consulted her watch. “Tell you what. It’s almost five. The bus’ll be here at six. Want to pack it in early and get some sodas from the cooler?”
“Are you kidding?” A general stampede for the ladder ensued.
“Be sure to clean off your tools and stow them in the tool hut,” Maddie called after them, amused. Despite her pep talk, she didn’t begrudge the kids a bit of whining. Archeology was 99.9 percent brain-numbing boredom.
She scraped a damp curl off her forehead. She really should follow to make sure the boys’ tools were cleaned and put away correctly. But when she turned to collect her own tools, she froze.
The light was back. It glowed—pulsed, actually—a brilliant, otherworldly red. And . . . it wanted her to approach.
An absurd thought but true. How or why she knew that, she couldn’t say. But her obedience was immediate. Before she could even form her next thought, she found herself stepping toward it.
A blast of hot wind rushed her face. Pain stabbed behind her eyes. The pit, the shade canopy, the desert beyond—all bubbled like boiling water. Burning sand peppered her skin. Wood smoke, acrid and pungent, seared her nostrils, and reality transformed . . .
Azazel taught Man to make swords, knives, shields, and breastplates. He taught the fabrication of mirrors, the workmanship of bracelets and ornaments, the use of cosmetics, the beautifying of the eyebrows. He taught the use of stones of every valuable and select kind, and of all sorts of dyes, so that the world became altered.
Azazel has taught every type of iniquity upon earth. He has disclosed to the world all the secrets of the heavens. The whole earth has been corrupted through his works.
To Azazel, ascribe all sin.
—from the Book of Enoch
Chapter Six
She lingered by the well, watching.
He was the tallest, strongest, most handsome man of the tribe. Their chieftain. His power was vast. He had risen to rule over all his brothers. And she was his daughter—how proud she was! She filled her jar with sweet, cool water, dipped from a well that never went dry, even during the long summers when the rains stayed away and the rivers turned to dust. All the while she gazed at him from beneath down-swept lashes.
He worked a new blade. Sparks flew as he scraped the shining bronze along the face of the whetstone. Pausing in his labor, he lifted the sword and sighted its length. Something tightened in her chest when he pressed his bare thumb to the weapon’s cutting edge.
He was her father. He was also a stranger.
He had never spoken a word to her. She had never sought his attention; she had never dared. As far back as she could remember, her mother, Zariel, had not been counted among his favored concubines. Her mother no longer went to him alone, only as attendant to younger, more beautiful women.
How bitterly she wished for her father’s acknowledgment! If only she could claim just a fragment of the time he lavished on her half brothers. Her father took pains to teach each of his sons the arts of weapon craft and war. Ezreth, the elder, was the favorite. To his first-born son he taught the secrets of magic, the secrets of Heaven. To his first-born daughter he taught nothing.
Tears stung her eyes. One dropped from her cheek into the clear water in her jug. With shaking hands, she raised the vessel to her head and stood. It was not fair. He was her father as well as Ezreth’s. If she had been a man, she would have been Ezreth’s equal! She shared their father’s angelic nature. And his magic. Yes, that, too. She had always known it. The wings of Heaven beat inside her chest, but she did not know how to set them free.
She lifted her chin, steadying the heavy jug atop her head with one raised hand. Today, she vowed, her father would look into her eyes. Today he would see her.
Steadily she approached him, halting but a few steps away. She said nothing; the strange courage that gripped her did not extend quite so far as that. To speak first to her tribe’s chieftain would be an unforgivable insult.
He was bent to the task of sharpening his sword. His power, a beautiful red swirl, surrounded his dark head and shoulders. He was aware of her presence, surely. But he did not look up. The urge to flee came upon her. She stayed.
She stayed but trembled. Her father exchanged his whetstone for an oiled rag. This he dragged over the new blade again and again. The bronze shone. It deflected a ray of sunlight into her eyes. She blinked against a tear. The blade might as well have plunged into her heart, so sharp was her yearning at that moment.
Look at me.
Her father put the sword aside and raised his eyes. She stared into those dark irises for what seemed like forever, far longer than the point in time when she should have dropped her gaze.
Silent, he studied her. And then he spoke.
“You are one of mine.”
Joy blossomed. He knew her!
She trembled. “Yes, Father.”
“What is your name, little one?”
“Lilith,” she said.
His gaze swept her from head to toe. “Why have you come to me?”
She lowered the water jug from her head and placed it on the ground between them. “The sun is hot. You have labored long. I have brought you fresh water. Will you drink?”
He nodded. She found a cup among his tools. She dipped it into the water with shaking hands. He ac
cepted the meager offering and raised it to his lips. She watched his throat move as he drank.
“My thanks, Lilith.” A faint smile curved his lips when he had finished. “Daughter.”
Daughter.
With that single word, he made her love him.
Daughter.
The word spun in Maddie’s head. Slashed at her heart.
Daughter.
Her eyes flew open. At the same instant, the ground rolled under her feet. Her knees buckled. Her balance toppled. The ground rushed upward.
A low curse came from somewhere above and behind her. A heavy thud shook the ground. Arms—strong, masculine arms—caught her, enfolding her tightly from behind.
Bare skin touching bare skin. Electricity zinged at the connection. A giddy sensation of relief swirled through her veins like a drug. Safe. She was safe.
“Madeline.”
His voice was low, urgent. Why? What was wrong? Wasn’t she exactly where she was supposed to be? She pressed her spine into his warmth, her head resting against his chest. Again, she had the sensation she was falling. This time she didn’t panic. He was here. He’d protect her.
“Maddie,” she murmured, correcting him without opening her eyes.
“What?”
“It’s Maddie. Not Madeline. I hate when people call me that.”
“Maddie, then.” Amusement softened his worried tone. He turned her body slightly in the circle of his embrace. She spread her hand on his chest and nestled her cheek beside it. His heart beat steadily under her ear. His ribs expanded as he drew breath.
Cade. She was with Cade.
He sat on the ground, his back supported by the wall of the pit. She was in his lap, his arms wrapped around her like a blanket. One of his big hands cupped her head, holding it against his chest. The other rubbed delicious circles on her back.
“Maddie,” he murmured.
A surreal yearning floated down on her like stardust. His scent—earthy, virile, exciting—surrounded her. She felt something inside her give way.
